Homecoming
by fluffernut
Summary: AU. Oneshot.


**Author's Note: This is completely and utterly an Alternate Universe fic. So I'm warning you now, the only thing that's the same are the characters. The plotline does not. I repeat, it does not follow the plot of the Clique series. It's also a little long… I apologize if it bores you. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**Harrington Home**

**Westchester, NY**

**September 9****th**

**8:34 am**

"Two days." Claire mumbled as she capped the marker and stared at the countdown on the kitchen whiteboard. "Just two more days." She wrapped her thing robe around her thin shoulders tightly and rubbed sleep from her weary eyes. She was so anxious about his arrival that she had spent the nights lying in bed picturing what it would be like to finally have him home.

He'd been gone almost a year and a half, but unlike others, Claire vividly remembered everything about him. She remembered the exact shade of his hair and how it looked like gold in the sun. She remembered the dimple on his left cheek and how she'd tease him about it being the size of a moon crater. She could recall the sensation of her ear prickling as he huskily whispered that he loved her. She felt his strong, lean arms wrap around her and pull her close to his chest where she could feel the _thudthudthud_ of his heart as his pulse quickened. She could smell the clean and salty scent of the ocean that always seemed to waft off him and drown her in bliss.

Claire turned on her white iHome and turned up the volume. She moved languidly through the kitchen placing everything where it belonged, dancing and singing along to the tunes.

"Have I ever told you that you don't have much of a rhythm?" The voice was low and lazy, full of sleep. Claire glanced over her shoulder to look at her best friend. Massie sat slouched on the stool at the island examining an apple in her hand. She scowled and placed it back in the fruit bowl, turning her amber eyes to Claire. "What's for breakfast?"

Claire smirked and rolled her eyes, but began pulling ingredients for pancakes. "You know Mass, the fact that you're twenty-two and still don't know how to cook is appalling."

"Har-har. You're sooooo funny Clairebear." Massie droned sarcastically. "You know I was privileged as a child. I don't know squat about surviving in the real world." She smiled deviously at Claire. "Besides, why would I need to know how to cook when my best friend own her own restaurant for crying out loud?"

"It's a café." Claire corrected. Massie waved her manicured hand in the air, dismissing the correction.

"You make food, you sell it. It's practically the same thing." Claire laughed loudly and handed Massie a mixing bowl.

"Here, mix this."

**Barton Barracks**

**Ansbach, Germany**

**September 10****th**

**9:12 pm**

Derrick sat down. He pulled sharply at the twine colored shoelace of his boots, quickly unknotting and pulling them off and tucking them neatly under his bunk. He ran a hand through his short hair, missing the longer locks he used to adorn. After tomorrow, he would be able to grow them out as long as he desired. Hell, he could have waist length hair for all anyone cared. Well, he probably wouldn't do that, but it was the principle of the matter.

He stretched out on his back, staring at bottom of the top bunk. He kicked it with his right foot.

"What the hell is your problem, Harrington? I'm trying to sleep." Cam's voice came out muffled. He probably had his face buried in his pillow, as usual.

"You're always asleep, Cameron." Derrick teased. He heard Cam grunt and shift in his bed. Derrick had met Cam during Basic Training in New York. They ended up in the same bunk and quickly bonded over their quick wit and sarcasm towards the Sergeants that no one else seemed to possess. Their friendship turned into a brotherhood when Derrick pulled Cam from an accidental fire. Even though Derrick had saved Cam physically, what Cam had done for Derrick was, in Derrick's mind, worth so much more. When they first arrived in Germany, Derrick took it harder than anyone else. He missed the crisp New York mornings, the picturesque views of Westchester, his family and friends but most of all, he missed Claire. Derrick fell into a deep depression and Cam helped him out of it. "I'm going home tomorrow, Cammy." Derrick drawled.

Cam was silent for a moment, "I know." He finally whispered. As much as Derrick ached to be home, he had been dreading this moment. Cam was his partner in crime, his confidant, his brother. Derrick had pleaded Cam to come back to New York with him, but Cam had informed Derrick that there was nothing left for him in New York. When Cam enlisted, his parents were long deceased and his fiancée, Alicia, broke off their engagement to run away with her driver, Josh. Cam was heartbroken and decided to enlist. When their tour was coming to a close, Cam immediately resigned for another two year tour.

They were silent for another moment before Cam spoke, his voice thick and wavering, trying to control too many emotions. "Say hi to Claire for me."

**Barton Barracks**

**Ansbach, Germany**

**September 11****th**

**5:46 am**

The sound of the helicopter propellers was deafening. The sound waves seemed to engulf Derrick, a final goodbye embrace from Germany. Cam stood by his side as the helicopter was prepped and checked. When the pilot nodded in Derrick's direction, he knew it was time to go. He gave Cam a quick hug and hoped it made up for everything left unsaid.

"Send me a letter every once in a while Cammy." Cam nodded solemnly. The wind pushed his overgrown hair out of his eyes and Derrick could tell they were red-rimmed. The thought of leaving Cam behind hit Derrick like a ton of bricks. His eyes began to sting. With one last smile at Cam, he willed himself to turn around, get on the helicopter and not look back.

Once inside the helicopter, Derrick slouched in his seat. He was a vortex of emotion. He was miserable for leaving Cam but he was ready to go home, ready to be with Claire. He closed his eyes and pictured her long blond hair and her turquoise eyes.

The pilot spoke quickly, flipping switches and the helicopter began to rise. "Ready for takeoff to Frankfurt, Germany." In two short hours, he'd arrive in Frankfurt and catch a plane to New York. Claire was supposed to meet him where he first told her he loved her, the World Trade Center. They were walking to a nearby restaurant when he told Claire he had something he wanted to shout from the tallest building. In haste, he chose the closest building.

Estimated time arrival until Claire would be in his arms: 0900 hours.

**Harrington Home**

**Westchester, NY**

**September 11****th**

**7:40 am**

Claire studied her silver watch carefully. With the six hour time difference between New York and Frankfurt, she estimated Derrick's arrival around 8:50 am. A grin spread across her face as she began to picture their reunion. She placed her breakfast dish in the sink and ran up the stairs two at a time. She rushed into the closet. For the first time, Claire had no idea what to wear. What does one wear when they are seeing the love of their life for the first time in almost two years?

Claire picked up the landline and dialed the one person who knew what to wear in every situation.

"Hey Mass. So umm…" Before Claire could finish explaining her dilemma, Massie abruptly cut her off.

"The sundress you wore on your first date."

Claire stumbled around in her closet, shifting old boxes of clothes that needed to be donated. After mumbling some obscene words under her breath when a stack of boxes as tall as her collapsed, she finally spotted the dress in the back. It was slightly hidden behind her old high school graduation robe. Claire grinned, recalling the last time she wore this dress. It was July when he finally built up the courage to ask her out, so naturally, their first date was at the annual summer fair. Claire and Massie had spent days looking for the perfect outfit before they finally found the dress in a little boutique. Claire slipped on the dress and paired it with tan wedges.

"Thank you so much, Mass." Claire beamed.

"Of course, Clairebear. Say hi to Derrick for me. And for the love of God, please do not make out for hours when you first see each other. Other people will be around and you know what happened last time…." Claire giggled and cut off Massie before she began lecturing like her mother.

"Aye aye captain. Love you." Claire clicked off and tossed the phone onto the bed. She quickly scooped her belongings into her handbag but stopped short when she realized her phone wasn't turning on.

"Shit." She cursed. In all her eagerness, she had forgotten to charge her phone. Claire frowned, debating whether or not she had time to charge it. A quick glance at her watch indicated she was going to be late if she didn't hurry. Without a second thought, she decided that her plans with Derrick were so set that she wasn't going to need it. She ran down the dark wood stairs, and out to her Honda Civic, a mess of blonde hair flying behind her. She shoved the key into the ignition and before she knew it, she was on her way to the city.

**World Trade Center – North Tower**

**Manhattan, NY**

**September 11****th**

**8:43 am**

A cup of coffee, two and a half CD's and fifty minutes later, Claire was pulling into the parking structure. She drummed her long, delicate fingers on the black steering wheel, unable to contain the jitters that had erupted throughout her body. She exited the car and smoothed down her sundress. Her shoes click-clacked on the marble floor and she made her way towards the elevator. The sleek metal doors parted at the ding and Claire stepped in with a group of tired, weary looking people in business suits. She quickly pressed the 110 button and stepped to the back end of the elevator. The metal felt cool against her flushed skin, she couldn't stop smiling. The woman standing next to looked at her knowingly. Claire blushed.

"My husband is coming home today. He's been deployed in Germany for the past year and a half." Claire blurted out. She felt her face redden even more. Her outburst was unexpected. The woman laughed kindly and shook her head.

"My husband was a military man as well. I remember those butterflies I would get the day he'd come home." The woman's green eyes twinkled in fondness. Claire felt her lips tugging into a smile.

"Whe-" A loud bang rattled the elevator violently and it lurched to a sudden stop at the 91th floor before Claire could form a sentence. The lights flickered slightly before fading out completely. Claire felt the green eyed woman's hand clasp around her forearm. The screeching sound of metal and screams rang throughout the enclosed elevator. The screams got louder and louder, closer and closer. Shivers ran up and down Claire's spine as she depicted the raw emotion behind the screams; agony, pain, fear.

"What's going on?" She heard someone ask frantically. Whispers erupted around her. Bits and pieces of conversations leaped at her from all directions.

"..maintenance must have.."

"…possibly,…blackout…"

"….slight glitch…nothing…"

"…worry…"

Claire began to relax. She figured there was a small problem with the electricity that powered the elevators. Maintenance would have it sorted out in no time. As soon as she began to slouch against the wall and get ready for the wait, she felt the elevator drop from under her. Her heart began to beat _fastfastfast_. It felt as if it was going to explode out of her chest. She grasped the metal handlebar so tightly her arm began to feel numb. The people around her began to erupt in screams and wails as the elevator kept going downwards. The sound of metal sliding on metal gave Claire Goosebumps. Five seconds later, the elevator stopped at what Claire presumed was the previous floor or two. She regained control of her breathing and glanced around her. People were huddled in the corners of the elevator, tears streaming down every face, quivering in fear of what was to come. No one dared to move in fear of sending the elevator spiraling downwards even further.

A man in a dark gray suit spoke furiously into his phone in a low voice, nodding as he wiped back the tears that gushed down his face. He cleared his throat. In a low, raspy voice he announced, "There's been an attack."

**John F. Kennedy International Airport**

**Queens, NY**

**September 11****th**

**8:53 am**

_Latelatelate. _All that was running through Derrick's mind as he weaved through the crowds at JFK was how late he was. He finally spotted the doorways that lead out to the street, he rushed over, his bag banging against his back. Thirty feet before he was outside, an airport security guard stopped him.

"Sir, we're going to have to ask you to wait." The guard's voice was hoarse. Derrick rolled his eyes.

"I already went through baggage claim. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to meet my wife." Derrick began to push past the guard but was immediately pushed back.

"Sir. I'm not going to ask you again. Make your way back and take a seat. Further instructions will be given." The guards voice was firm, but something made Derrick think the guard was terrified. Derrick glanced around the airport, people were strewn all over. Some leaning against walls with their heads downcast, others violently sobbing on the floor, clutching others in embraces. Derrick furrowed his eyebrows.

"What's going on?" He asked. The security guard shook his head. Derrick took a step closer. "What is going on?" He demanded. The security guard looked torn. Derrick raised an eyebrow to signify he was waiting for an explanation. The guard sighed.

"There's been…a crisis." Derrick waited for elaboration. "A plane crashed into the north tower." Derrick's heart felt heavy in his chest. His stomach churned; his breathing came to a halt. He tried to grasp his mind around the concept.

"No." Derrick shoved past the security guard. He wiped the burning sensation from his eyes with his palm. He began to run towards the doors but was pulled back by the collar of his army coat. "Let me go!" He screamed. He felt hot tears streaking down his face; he furiously wiped them away and tried to keep moving forward. "My wife is in that Tower! Let me go! Let me go!" His voice broke and he stopped resisting. His knees buckled and gave, he fell to the ground. A grunting sound escaped his lips as the tears began to fall more quickly. "I have to get to Claire. Please. I have to save her." He attempted to stand up, but he was too weak. He felt a warm hand on his back, rubbing gently, attempting to soothe him. He shifted away from the comforting hand, feeling guilty that he was safe while Claire could be in danger.

If he can't see her, he's at least going to hear her voice. He unzipped his carry on and began rummaging for his phone. After two quick presses of buttons, he lifted the phone to his ear.

"Hey, this is Claire. I obviously am not answering the phone right now because I'm probably busy, so leave a message and I might call you back." Voicemail. Straight to voicemail. Derrick pressed the redial button.

"C'mon Claire. Where are you?"

**World Trade Center – North Tower**

**Manhattan, New York**

**September 11****th**

**8:56**

Chaos erupted around Claire. After the man in the gray suit announced that there was an accident, people demanded answers. Phone calls began to be made, information was slowly collected as a group. The final consensus was this: A plane had crashed into the North Tower of the World Trade Center. The tower they were currently in. The plane hit somewhere slightly above them. The screams were of people falling, burning, and jumping to their deaths.

Claire sat staring at the doors of the elevator; she could feel the tears streaking black down her cheeks as they merged with her mascara. Smoke began to creep in through the crevices. The smoke felt thick and burned her lungs; she resisted the urge to cough. People began to claw at the metal doors of the elevator. It was unbearably hot. Claire felt her wet hair prickling the back of her neck. Her mind whirled with scenarios of where Derrick could be. She mentally slapped herself for allowing her phone to die. For all she knew, Derrick could have arrived earlier than her. He could have been waiting on the 110th floor for her arrival.

People were beginning to lose hope. She had already heard three phone calls fellow elevator inhabitants had made to their loved ones to say goodbye. Claire looked at the green eyed woman, Anna. Anna had bravely called her husband to tell him what was going on. She didn't cry, she didn't tremble, and she didn't explain how terrifying the situation was. She was strong. Her message was short. She explained to her husband that the last twenty five years of her life were something she wouldn't dream of exchanging for anything. She told him she loved him and hung up. Anna handed Claire the cell phone. Claire was hesitant, she couldn't remember the number of Derrick's new mobile phone. So she called their home and left a message.

"Derrick." She whispered. "Derrick, no matter what happens; I just want to let you know that I love you. Always have, always will. I fell in love with you when we were kids. I knew on the playground the day we met that you were the one for me. You're my best friend, my everything. God, I love you." Claire clicked off the line before she recorded herself crying. She handed the phone back to Anna and curled up into a ball, willing herself not to cry.

At this point, no one expected to survive, and quite frankly, Claire was starting to believe it too. A man to Claire's left stood up abruptly, the elevator lost a couple inches. People began to shout obscenities at the man, asking him whether he was trying to kill them all.

"Are you really going to just sit there? Are you not going to fight for your life? I know I sure as hell am going to fight for mine. I don't know about the rest of you lot, but I have a family who is waiting for me to come home safely." The man snarled. His salt and pepper hair wildly splayed from his head in all directions. He made his way towards the metal doors and began to attempt to pry them apart.

The elevator was quiet as the man's words echoed through everyone's minds. It seemed like hours before a man in a green coat stood and joined the other man at the door. Soon, more and more people were struggling to pull apart the doors. The elevator slowly kept dropping further and further as more and more people walked to the doors. The metal screeched loudly, sparks spewed like fireworks. Claire resisted the urge to yell for them to stop. They were only making matters worse. The gap between the doors widened. First an inch, then two, then five. People worked faster, brimming with hope. They could see the light at the end of the tunnel. Seven inches wide, ten, thirteen inches. The salt and peppered haired man began to step through the opening when Claire felt the floor fall out from under her.

Screams engulfed her and the elevator descended further and further down. Her heart stopped as her head hit the ceiling. This had to be some kind of dream. The elevator sliced through the air with monstrous velocity. She felt Anna's fingers loop through her own, clutching on for dear life. Claire squeezed her eyes tightly, picturing Derrick's face. She had never loved anyone as much as she loved him, and in that moment, she just knew he was safe somewhere. That was all she could ask.

**Epilogue**

**Harrington Home**

**Westchester, NY**

**September 16****th**

**9:42 am**

Derrick refused to turn on the news. He knew they were still talking about it. Everyone was. It haunted him from the moment he woke up until the moment he fell asleep by retellings of every side of the story. There was no escaping the heart-wrenching pain that drowned him every time someone mentioned it. He had lost the most important thing in his life that day to a despicable man who had robbed so many of their loved ones. A national crisis that left nothing but sorrow and misery in its trace. Thousands of innocent people lost their lives. The details of the event would become hazy in time. The shock would wear off. People would return to their old routines. They would go back to work, back to school, back to real life. People would laugh, and sing, and dance again. The fear of the tragedy would be forgotten but the people would not.

With one last look around their home, Derrick turned off the lights. He picked up the last cardboard box carried it to the trunk of his jeep. There was nothing left for him in New York.

**So I really don't know why on Earth I wrote something like this. It was just kind of something that came to me. I know it's super long, but if any of you made it to the end, I would greatly appreciate some reviews :)**

**-Fluffernut**


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